The art of fiction

I really enjoyed Stranger Than Fiction yesterday. Well, you see, only recently I became a fan of Will Ferrell, ever since I caught a peak of Elf some months ago on television. And, of course, I have loved Emma Thompson forever it seems. I love a movie that makes me think and this one surely did. Mainly, I came out of it thinking that non-fiction is for wimps! My oh my. If only I had the courage to write fiction. To climb into the head, the lives of others and create a story that awes, inspires, fills the mind with tragedy, humor, love, and passion.

When I was young I could dream up all sorts of stories in my head. Their theme always seemed to have something to do with heroic acts by some brave and wondrous young woman. Talk about wishful thinking! Talk about searching for attention and acknowledgment! I must admit that it just seems easier to write non-fiction, commenting, debating, sharing my own story. Not much creativity there. In non-fiction I don't have to be empathic or imaginative. Sure, I can show my smarts or share my opinions. I might even write well modeling self-reflection and opening up pieces of my past. But fiction is so much more complex. Especially because, when done well, it places the characters in agonizing situations while exploring or resolving moral dilemmas. Fiction enables us to suspend reality and yet steep us in it all at the same time. It is magic and mystery while being as comfortably mundane as can be. It certainly gives us an illusion that there is more to life than just, well, living the daily routine.

As we were driving home it occurred to me that for as long as I can remember I thought life was just so much bigger, more dramatic, and intense. My expectations were full of wonder and awe. And yet recently I have been noticing that, in fact, life is quite ordinary. It seems so much smaller, and my expectations have become almost non-existent. Dreams of academia or the one love of my life have been brought way down to size. I don't think they have been shattered. It's not disappointment, cynicism or disillusionment. I am not sad or bitter about it. Rather, it feels like a peaceful acceptance that life is just that. Little acts, mundane, daily routines. Every now and again someone will surprise me with an act of kindness, compassion or generosity of spirit. Or there will be a beautiful sunrise bringing me out of a painful night. Sometimes life will be sprinkled with fiction that might suspend my reality for a moment, filling me with joy or pleasure and then on I go again, plodding along through life.

In fact, I realize, it is quite comforting not to have to go crazy any more, trying to cover all this reality up with desperation and pain, angst and glorious passion.

Plodding feels just fine to me right about now. Sitting still, like a Sphinx, and just watching, observing, understanding, deepening, listening. And sometimes, even, finding myself smiling with joy.

A year ago at Tamarika: You've had your chance

Comments

[tamarika]

Yes, Jean - I hope you do get to see the movie. I agree with Neil that it is one of the best movies I have seen this year.

Mark, thanks so much for the link and Natalie, so good to hear from you again. It looks like we are in a similar place emotionally, eh?

[Jean]

I'd better see that film - and ponder some of your comments :-)!

[Mark Daniels]

This is an interesting post, Tamar. I think that you're right about there being a place isn't cynicism or surrender, but acceptance.

Mark

[Natalie]

"In fact, I realize, it is quite comforting not to have to go crazy any more, trying to cover all this reality up with desperation and pain, angst and glorious passion."

tamar, that's just how I feel now and somehow all of that past sturm-und-drang (spelling?) has become more accessible as raw material to be used creatively.
I've also been thinking along the same lines as you concerning fiction/fact. Thank you for again for expressing so well thoughts and feelings that I share.

[Neil]

Stranger Than Fiction was one of the best movies I saw this year. It was only afterwards, when I began to think about, that I realized the movie made little logical sense -- but I guess that is what fiction is all about -- making you believe in what isn't real.